


Weep Not for the Memories

by shake_off_everything20



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Character Death, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Moving On, Moving on after death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shake_off_everything20/pseuds/shake_off_everything20
Summary: John Deacon is devastated after the death of his bandmate Freddie Mercury.  A nighttime visit from his departed friend helps John move on and cope with the loss.
Relationships: John Deacon & Freddie Mercury
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	Weep Not for the Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This work references a number of songs that came to me as a wrote. They are numbered and referenced at the end.
> 
> Feel free to visit/connect on [ Tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thosequeenboys)

The November Sunday morning dawned grey and damp as most did that time of year. A wind whipped up the fallen leaves and blew them into almost perfect whirling oblong circles. He arose and prepared for the day. She stayed sleeping on her side, cuddled under the blankets. Once downstairs, he started the kettle for tea and ventured to the doorstep to pick up the newspaper that leaned carelessly against the front door. There it was: Freddie’s announcement of his illness.

John was surprised but not shocked. The reality they had been living with for years was finally revealed in black and white. And with it, there was no more denying, no hope that he would be cured and no thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as bad as it really was. Of course, they knew the truth from his deterioration and his rueful jokes, but so long as it wasn’t officially announced in print, they could still hope -- or deny the harsh reality. He folded up the paper and shoved it into the entry foyer shelf between boots and hats and scarves.

He carried on with the morning routine, preparing breakfast before church. The kids started to amble down the steps and he corralled them around the kitchen table to eat, keeping he banter light, responding to them as needed, mustering great concentration to be in the moment. Veronica joined them, holding the youngest’s hand cajoling them to finish up and dress for church, which they did. Attired and groomed neatly, they gathered by the door without fussing or fighting, bantering or bossing, asks or antics, as though they had anticipated the ominous afternoon that lay before them. After church, the kids scattered to the family room turning to regular Sunday pre-lunch activities: games, books and crafts. John joined them eager to distract himself, as Veronica prepared lunch.

The drizzle started hitting the large window, laying wet tracks on the glass. John turned on all the lights. He welcomed the bright bursts that contrasted the grey landscape and sat down. Suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel. He peered out the window and saw one, then two cars enter the wide driveway. The cars parted, peeling to opposite sides of the circular drive, and parked, forming the base of a heart. The boys exited their cars, pulling their coats tightly. They met and the tall one’s arm gently touched the other’s lower back, as they walked toward the house, their feet crunching. 

“John…” Veronica called, her voice shaking. They all knew it would happen-some version of this-and now that it was here, it began to unfold in slow motion.

“I know.” John said, rising and walking out of the family room toward the entry foyer where she now stood. She extended her hand, brushing it down his arm as he grabbed a coat from a hook and put it on while opening the heavy wooden door. 

And, at that moment, John knew that once he walked out that door, his life would never be the same. What lay ahead for them, he couldn’t say. How he’d deal with the avalanche of emotions, he didn’t know. How many memories would fade over time, he couldn’t imagine. Crossing the threshold to that uncertainty, into the dampness, he felt fullness rush to his chest. Emotions ricocheted within himself, the feelings kept at bay for so long. He met the boys in the middle of the driveway. Brian extended his long arm and pulled John in, his other arm now tight around Roger. Before Brian spoke, John’s tears started to flow. 

“He’s gone, Deacy.” Brian’s wet eyes bore into John’s as he brought John and Roger close to him. They huddled together in the rain, their own tears raining down collectively. 

“Do you, would you like to come in.” John asked quietly after a few moments, as they were standing in the rain, and his politeness overcame him. 

Roger broke away. “ I can’t.” his voice cracked. “I keep hearing Phoebe telling me on the phone. It’s too much. I gotta go.” He slid his hand down Brian’s arm, letting it linger just a few seconds against Brian’s hand as they stared at each other. He broke away and turned to hug John. “See you at the funeral,’ he said as walked toward his car.

Brian rubbed John’s back. “Do you want to talk a bit?”

“I…I don’t know,” John said between tears. “I gotta keep it together. For the kids. for Ronnie.”

“We’ll have time. Here I wrote down the funeral information,” Brian took a neatly folded sheet of paper from his inner jacket pocket. “We’ll meet there and then go to lunch. Just the three of us.”

“Yeah. It’s just the three of us, I suppose. For now.” John said. He took the paper. Brian looked at him curiously, but remained silent as John hugged him, letting the tall man hold and soothe him. 

The funeral came and went and the week passed in a blur. Roger and Brian did an interview and talked about Fred’s last days, the intrusive press, the stigma of AIDs and homosexuality, the Mercury Phoenix Trust and a future Memorial Concert. John couldn’t believe they could be so articulate and composed, holding it together. This was such a contrast to himself. He needed to use every ounce of energy to go through the motions, trying to hold the patchwork pieces of his life together as the threads loosened. But not very well. 

Veronica tried to be patient but became increasingly annoyed with his detachment. “I know you are hurting. But, we are here. We are living. We need you. All of you. Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too. The world is beating you down. I’m around for every mood.” (1) She said.

Nights were long and torturous. Veronica got used to sleeping with John flipping around beside her. Memories assaulted him, stirring up tears as he recounted days together that would never be recaptured – or repeated, lurching him into a state of sadness.

Finally, over a week later, exhaustion overcame him, and John fell into a fitful sleep. A breeze circulated through the room and skimmed John, causing him to shiver just as he let himself slide into unconsciousness. Was the window open? he wondered. His eyes flickered, and through them he saw shadows of branches dancing on the bedroom wall, lit by the moonlight. He was too tired to get up to investigate, so he pulled the blanket up around his neck and finally, finally, let his body slide into the rest it craved. 

Suddenly he heard that familiar voice, the voice that soothed, cajoled, joked, laughed, created, emoted, sassed, swore, bickered, slayed, agitated, mediated, cackled. Sang. Loved. 

“Deacy, Deacy, Darling….”

“Freddie??” John sat up in bed as he glanced toward the wall, seeing Veronica cuddled sleeping. He turned the other way, toward the window, and blinked as his mustached friend came into full view before him: healthy, muscled and fit, dressed in tight white pants with a red sash belt, his white wife beater with the black lightning bold and the red jacket with the similar design.

“Freddie….you look …. like when we were in Japan. We ALL wore white!!”

“Yes! What a wonderful set of shows we had there – over the years, really!” Freddie said wistfully.

Deacy felt a jolt of energy rush through him. He was uplifted more than he had been in weeks. The chill in the room had vanished. “You’re healthy, Freddie. Tell me, please! It was it all a nightmare - and I’ve woken up and you’re still here!!!??”

“No, dear, I’m still dead, sorry to say.” Freddie said in his direct way.

“How? what, why, are you here??” Deacy asked, confused.

“I know you’ve been out of sorts and well, I want to help you move on. You know I love you and it pains me to see you suffering.” Fred replied.

“Freddie, I can’t – I just…I don’t know what my life will be like now. And I don’t know if I can play again. Without you. Inside my heart is breaking (2)…” It felt good for John to express his pent-up feelings.

Freddie nodded. “I understand. But - You have to join the living-your beautiful wife and children. They need you and they want you. They love you so. You don’t have to decide about playing, but if you decide you don’t want to – that’s ok. But you better bloody well play at my Memorial concert!” he laughed slyly. 

“I will, Fred…I’ll play for you. Of course. When you died, a light went out, the same light that had guided me, brightened me and calmed me. You saw the best there was in me. Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach. You stood by me and I stood tall. I had your love I had it all. I’m grateful for each day you gave me. Maybe I don’t know that much, but I know this much is true. I was blessed because I was loved by you. (3) I keep remembering our times together-the images just come to me. Over 20 years of images. they’re supposed to be soothing but they just hurt.”

“I know. They won’t always hurt, Dear. As they say, ‘don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.’” He chuckled. “See them as celebrations of our lives together.”

“I just can’t believe you’re gone.” Deacy felt his eyes brimming with tears, as Freddie looked at him with love and empathy.

Fred nodded. “You all knew, but the finality of it. But our music lives-and me, in it. And there are all those videos. Miami has them. Who knows one day, maybe they’ll be available to the masses!” (If he only knew) Freddie laughed, stretching his arms in a grand, graceful gesture, as only he could do. “Hear my song. Still think of me the way you’ve come to think of me…Just close your pretty eyes and you can be with me. (4) I will be there with you on your journey. When you need me, I’ll wait here in the silence until you come and sit awhile with me.” (5)

Fred continued: “Deacy-You have to choose to live. And love. You have so much love to share-you always have. You have to redirect your love for me elsewhere-to your family. And create new love, perhaps,” Fred winked. 

Deacy looked down with a shy smile.

Fred continued, “Well, I’m sure you and Veronica can work on that! And the band-well, Brian and Roger will have their ideas. You need to do what’s best for you. Whatever that is, It will be ok. You don’t have to figure that out now. Any of it. Just be present – in this present. I know it’s not the one you chose. Hell, I assure you it’s not what I chose either. But unlike me, you have a chance for new chapters-with people who love you.”

Deacy took a deep breath, feeling the words and presence of his friend permeate him and a calmness envelop him. You’re safe in my heart, and my heart will go on. (6)

Suddenly, Deacy felt chilly. He put his feet on the floor and leaned forward. “Freddie, stay awhile!! Let me grab my bass and we can jam a bit - Anything, whatever you like.”

“I can’t, Deacy. Now the wind has changed direction and I’ll have to leave.” (7)

“Please Fred,” Deacy said as he lurched to touch Freddie, who backed up toward the window and started to fade. But before he did, he said, “I love you, Deacy. Remember our chat. I’ll always be with you-keeping an eye on you, watching your lovely family, laughing at your jokes. Focus on the future and the love in your life. Don’t let your life pass you by. Weep not for the memories.” (8)

“Freddie, no, no, come back…please, just for a little while longer.” John said frantically and started to cry. Veronica rolled over to John, easing him down on the bed and then swinging her leg and arm onto him, running her fingers through his hair.

“It’s ok, Darling. Did you have a dream about Fred?”

“It wasn’t a dream, Ronnie. He was here. I was awake. We were talking. He looked so good. He….”

“What did he say?” She asked, not debating the interaction he claimed.

“He reminded me of the love I have-with you and the kids. That’s where I belong. I must think of a new life, and I mustn’t give in. (9) And, he said we should …create new love….” He smiled at her.

“Oh, John, what a lovely thought. Let’s pick that up tomorrow.” She giggled. “Now, you need to sleep. Lie back, baby, let me kiss you to sleep.” And she planted soft kisses on his neck and cheek and rested her head on his chest. As John drifted off, their video of The Show Must Go On came to him. The images, the music and lyrics lulled him to sleep. I guess I’m learning. I must be warmer now. I’ll soon be turning, round the corner now. Outside the dawn is breaking but inside in the dark, I’m aching to be free….Fairy tales of yesterday grow but never die, I can fly, my friends. (10)

In a few minutes, Veronica heard his steady breathing of sleep.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, dear, sweet Freddie,” before she joined John in a welcoming, deep slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> SONG NOTES
> 
> (1) All of Me, John Legend (People’s Sexiest Man Alive, 2019!!)  
> (2) The Show Must Go On, Queen  
> (3) Because You Loved Me, Celine Dion  
> (4) Teo Torriatte, Queen   
> (5) You Raise Me Up, Josh Groban   
> (6) My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion (wow, two songs by CD, Ay, Caramba!)  
> (7) Border Song, Elton John  
> (8) I Will Remember You, Sarah McLachlan  
> (9) Memory, From the Musical “Cats”   
> (10) The Show Must Go On, Queen 
> 
> Other note: I've always like the idea that part of John's healing after Freddie died was due to he and Veronica having 2 more kids. I loved the idea that Fred encourages him to do that as part of his important message to continue to be devoted to his family and embrace life.


End file.
